Moments in Time
by Maizeysugah
Summary: A small compilation of what ifs changing the outcome of Harry's life after he slays Voldemort. 1st chapter- what if Harry raises Tom Riddle. 2nd chapter- what if Harry goes back to limbo and lives with Voldemort, making him a better person. 3rd chapter Lord Voldemort realizes Harry is a Horcrux and hides him in his manor. Slash HP/AD HP/TMR
1. Moments in Time

January, 1927

The grim surroundings of Wool's Orphanage troubled 17 year old Harry Potter as he sat in a wobbly chair opposite Mrs Cole in her office. He peered over the desk, watching the woman go through all of the paperwork he'd filled out, looking for any errors. She pulled a rubber stamp out of the desk drawer and slammed it down on the first page. She stood up, held out a hand and shook Harry's as he stood. "Everything is in order, Mr Riddle. I'm very sorry about your wife. They took her body to the morgue. You can claim her with these." She handed him a few documents. "Let me get your son, I'll be right back."

The trepidation he felt sat like sludge in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't so sure he could go through with this anymore. He looked over the documents, sighing, and stuffed them in the inside of his jacket. The woman reentered the room with the baby in her arms. "Oh gods," he said under his breath. He reached out, seeing his hands shaking as he took the baby from her. "Thank you very much, Mrs Cole. I'll see myself out."

He couldn't even look at him. He cradled the bundle to his chest and stepped outside of the orphanage, intent on finishing what he planned to do. "I can do this," he told himself as he walked down the street. He slipped into the alley behind a pub. "Not gonna look at him. I'm gonna do it quick and disappear."

He set the baby down on top of a rubbish bin and took his wand out. The swaddling around the baby was not covering his sweet face. "Ugh," Harry groaned, looking away with a cringe. "Damn." He couldn't muster the hatred, or anything other than sympathy for the tiny infant. It was very cold outside. He could see his and the baby's breath. He was shivering and crying. Harry cursed as he stuck his wand back inside his jacket and lifted the baby up into his arms. "What am I gonna do with you?" he asked the newborn, holding him up to his face. "Well I'm not leaving you here, that's for damned sure."

He cast a warming spell on them while he thought about the possibilities of time travel and its paradoxes. "If I took you out of this time to my time you wouldn't exist to kill my parents. Is that right? But if you didn't exist, would they even get together? I wouldn't be born so I couldn't even do this…I think? Oh, Merlin, what am I gonna do? I can't just leave you here…Gods, why are you so freaking cute? Stop looking at me!"

He pulled his jacket around the baby. He had to think. "Okay, I'm in London, 1 January, 1927. Um, uh…Albus! Albus Dumbledore! Yes! Now where is he? Is he at Hogwarts yet?" he asked the baby, parting his jacket a bit to look down inside. "He'd be in his forties, I think. When was that duel with Grindelwald?" The little baby began to cry again as they walked out of the alleyway. Harry touched his lips with his little finger. The infant latched on and began to suckle it. "Oh, you're hungry." He had nothing on him to give this child and no money to buy anything. "I did not think this through. I should have listened to her. She said I couldn't do it. She is always right…and completely nosey." He pulled his wand free for a third time, draped the Cloak of Invisibility over them and tightened his arm around the baby. "Okay, hold on, you adorable little pre-Dark Lord, we're off to Godric's Hollow."

* * *

"Pardon me," Harry said, running up alongside an elderly couple on a stroll down Church Lane. He smiled and tipped his head. "I'm looking for Albus Dumbledore. Do you happen to know which home he resides in?"

"It's right there, darling," the woman said, pointing off to a quaint cottage near the end of the row while eyeing the baby wiggling around under his jacket.

"Great, thank you," he said and dashed off toward it, praying he was at home. He got to the front door and knocked. Baby Tom had started to cry again and he was certain that the front of his shirt was soaking wet. "Oh, Merlin, please be home." The door rattled. "Yes!" Harry shouted, now face to face with the young man. He was very tall and thin, with flowing auburn hair and those striking blue eyes. "Albus, hi! This may sound strange but we're friends in the future, well, you're my headmaster…and mentor. I need your help. It's a really long story and this baby is cold, wet and hungry. Uh, can I come in?"

Looking down his nose at the boy he stepped aside. "Yes, of course." He turned, gesturing through the front room. "Follow me. We'll fix that baby right up. Is he yours? You look awfully young to have a child."

"No, he's not…err, well, he is now. I mean, he's technically my son but he's not my son." He looked into the parlour and spotted a very familiar looking bird sitting on his perch. "Fawkes!"

Dumbledore looked back at the boy and blinked. He grabbed a tea cloth and a bottle of milk from the crisper. "Okay, the story. I'm dying to hear this."

Harry waved his wand over the child and his shirt, drying them up. "My name is Harry Potter. I was a student of yours…" he went on to tell him the tale of his youth while holding Tom, letting him suck on the milk-drenched tea cloth. "And so, you know, fed up, wishing I could change everything so maybe we didn't have to go through all of this, I sought out a Time-Turner and came back to this time intent on killing him. Sounds terrible, doesn't it?"

"But you couldn't do it. Of course not. It's not in your nature." He looked down at the newborn, smiling. "He's a cute little devil. Most infants are usually pretty wrinkly and not terribly all that nice to look at."

"Yeah, he's a charmer, alright. You can see why I'm in some sort of predicament. I would take him back with me but risk the chance of never being born. I'm kind of stuck, and I was hoping maybe you could help me out with figuring out what I should do with him."

"You say he grew up in an orphanage?"

"Yes, and he's brilliant but they did not know how to handle him."

"I wonder if he grew up with love and someone who knew how to handle him, would he might not turn into someone so evil."

"It's quite possible," Harry said, rocking the little boy in his lap.

Albus watched him, seeing the glint of happiness in his eyes while he coddled his supposed nemesis. "Well the answer is clear."

Harry looked up from Tom to Albus. "Which is?"

"He stays with you, obviously."

Harry blinked. "With me? I've already told you I can't risk taking him back."

"Then don't go back," he replied, smiling.

"But I have nothing here; no money, nowhere to live," he told him. "I don't know anyone except you."

Albus shrugged. "You said we were friends, and I can see why. You seem like a very good person. Stay here with me, I have loads of room."

"Really?" He thought on it, having a life of peace and quiet, not being the famous Harry Potter. It was an interesting idea. "I can't just stay, I have friends, I have a girlfriend…" He trailed off, conflicted.

"It's up to you," Albus said, still smiling, "but as I see it, you came out here with an agenda, and perhaps you already knew you wouldn't be able to kill him."

Harry pouted. "Oh, there you go again with your cryptic words to guilt me into doing this. It seems you've always been this way."

"Perhaps, and maybe I'm lonely and it would be very refreshing hearing about this future we'll probably be changing."

"Well, I don't have any money to buy nappies or bottles…" he said, grinning. "You're going to have to help if I stay."

He leaned into Harry, giving him a wink. "I might have to stop being a mad eccentric and get a job."

Harry nodded, still grinning. "I know where!"

* * *

June, 1928

Taking the dummy out of the toddler's mouth, Albus mused aloud to Harry. "I was thinking about selling a few of Fawke's tail feathers for some money," he said, while dangling a sugar quill over Tom's head. "They would go for a good price. Phoenix feathers are all the rage at the moment."

Harry giggled, thinking about his old wand. "Not a half bad idea. Tom-Tom, come to daddy." He held out his arms as Tom stumbled toward him, and grabbed the toddler up to smother him in kisses. "What did your other daddy give you there? Ooh, a sugar quill! You're such a sweet boy. For me?"

"For Hawwy!" Tom cooed, jamming the sugar quill in Harry's mouth.

Albus clutched himself watching them dote over each other. They were such the pair. "Hard to imagine what he would turn to be. He just adores you."

"And you," Harry added, tipping his head. "He just loves his sweet Albus. Can't get enough of him, can you, baby?"

"Abus," Tom says, groping out to touch the older man's beard. "Daddy."

"That's right," Harry agreed, snuggling the toddler before releasing him to wobble over to his other father.

Tom nestled into the man's beard, tangling his fingers in it. Albus melted.

Harry swooned. He clapped a hand over his face, feeling his cheeks burn.

Albus glanced up at him over his half-moon spectacles in understanding. It was hard to deny his attraction to the handsome young man, who shared his love for all things good and righteous. He was so pleasantly surprised at what a genuinely good person Harry was, a true Gryffindor, so pure and bright and true. The young man took such wonderful care of Tom, despite knowing he was the one who ruined his life, murdered his parents. He doubted he himself could take on such a task, after living so bitterly those last years after what Grindelwald and he had gone through, what with killing his sister and all.

He looked down at the child in his arms. The toddler was entranced with his eyes, babbling and drooling as he reached up to touch them. "You can't touch eyes, Tom Tom. Hows about another sugar quill?"

"Another?" Harry asked, astounded. "You spoil him rotten, Albus."

"Abus!" Tom said, grabbing the man's cheeks to kiss him.

"I do, don't I?" Albus said, almost to himself as he snuggled the boy into his chest. "What a precious gift. He deserves it."

"I suppose he does," Harry said, content.

* * *

September, 1931

"Please give a warm welcome to our new Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Riddle." Armando Dippet stepped away from the podium to allow Albus and Harry to address the room. Tom was fast asleep draped over Harry's arms as they greeted the students.

"Wake up, you, you'll miss the feast," Harry said, giving the boy a firm shake.

Tom yawned and stretched, blinking those large, dark doe eyes while they focused on his father's charming face. "I'm awake, daddy," he said, climbing off his lap to take his seat between he and Albus. He gasped, eyeing the myriad of delicious looking foods displayed on the table with a keenness to taste everything. He gazed up at Harry, unsure if he was allowed to eat it.

Harry smiled, sweeping his hand over the table. "Dig in!"

* * *

"Manky is catching Master Tom talking to Ashwinders in the gardens, Master Harry!" The house-elf dragged the boy into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom looking quite cross. All of the students stopped their attacking to watch them.

Harry screwed up the side of his mouth. "Thank you, Manky. I'll take it from here. Come here, darling," he said, wagging a finger at Tom. He climbed up in his lap, sighing like an old granny over being caught. Harry tussled his hair. "I know you're champing at the bit to speak with them, honestly, I do. But we've talked about not doing it when I'm not there. Snakes are dangerous creatures, especially Ashwinders, Tom."

The boy's pretty face softened as he looked around the room at all of the students duelling each other, dying to get his hands on a wand and join them. "When can I get a wand, daddy?"

"Why, do you think you can perform magic yet?" he asked him, letting him hold the Elder Wand for a moment. Tom swished it through the air and a clock on the wall across the room exploded. Harry blinked. "Oh, dear," he said and took the wand out of his hands. "Is everyone alright?" he asked looking around the room.

* * *

"I'm back," Harry said, peeking into Tom's room to find Albus reading the boy a bedtime story. He moved inside to give him a good night kiss.

Tom was pouting, looking up at his two fathers with envy. "You both have the most beautiful eyes. Mine are ugly and dark. Why didn't I get your eyes, daddys?"

"What is this talk?" Harry asked him, pinching his cheek. "Your eyes are gorgeous. Dark eyes are beautiful, Tom."

"I suppose," he said, still pouting. "I'm going to invent a spell that changes your eye colour when I get a wand."

"Enough of that," Albus said, closing the book of fairy tales and resting it in his lap. He looked up at Harry, who was looking down at him. "You have lovely eyes, Tom. Such a handsome face."

Tom yawned and hugged his plush Dementor. "I'm still doing it," he said, and closed his eyes.

Harry rolled his, taking Albus's arm to help him stand. "Children," he whispered as they left the room. He pulled a small gift out of his pocket as they curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Albus waved his wand, igniting a fire. Harry placed a kiss on his cheek and put the gift in his lap. "For you."

"Oh," Albus said, surprised. "What for?" he asked as he unwrapped it.

"Just because," Harry told him, squeezing his arm.

It was a pair of bright purple knee socks. Albus grinned and gave Harry a kiss. "Thank you so much, you always know what to get me."

* * *

September, 1938

Albus held the Daily Prophet up and frowned. What he read troubled him. "This is getting out of hand. His power is growing."

"Let me see!" Tom said, grasping for the paper.

Harry looked at the article he was reading. It was about Gellert Grindelwald. He gave Albus a look, shaking his head 'no'.

Albus rolled the paper up and stuffed it into his dressing gown. "It's nothing, Tom. Eat your Pixie Puffs."

"It's about him, isn't it? Grindelwald. What does it say?"

"Grindelwald is a bad person, Tom. We've talked about this," Harry said through pursed lips.

"People can change," he replied. "He's just so powerful, he's taking over the wizarding world."

Harry gaped at him while hitching a thumb at Albus. "Um, just so you know your father here defeated him in a duel."

"You did?" he asked him, starstruck.

"It's nothing to be proud of, Tom. My sister was killed during that duel, and my brother refuses to speak to me anymore."

Tom slumped back into his seat, crossing his arms. "You never tell me anything. I didn't even know you had a brother."

"No more brooding, young man. Finish your breakfast so we can go. Don't you want to get that wand you've been whining about since the moment you could speak?" Harry asked with big eyes. "Hm?"

A bright smile curled up on Tom's lips. "Yes, yes, yes!" he cried, grabbing his spoon.

* * *

"Try this one. 13 1/2" in length, yew, with a phoenix feather core so graciously sold to me by your father."

Harry frowned, seeing the wand in Garrick Ollivander's possession as he opened the box to reveal it. "Pardon me," he said, holding up a finger. "Might we try its twin first?"

"Oh," Ollivander said, looking over his glasses. "You know it has a twin?"

"I uh…" Harry adjusted his glasses to hide his flushed cheeks.

"I believe that sentence was worded poorly. As we sold you two feathers we just assumed. Yes?" Albus interjected, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

"Yes," Harry said, cringing inwardly. "That's exactly what I meant."

"But I liked that wand," Tom said, pouting as the wand maker walked away with it to get its twin. When he returned and opened the box, Tom scooped it out and frowned.

"11", long and supple. Holly wood and phoenix feather core."

"Oh, this one's boring." He gave it a swish. The room lit up and the angels sang.

Harry grinned from ear to ear and dropped several galleons on the counter. "Time to go!" he said, steering Tom out of the shoppe.

* * *

Albus held up the broomstick he'd just purchased and handed it to Tom.

"For me?" he asked, his mouth and eyes open wide.

"For you," Albus replied, feeding off the look of glee plastered on his face.

Tom took hold of it, awed. "A Comet 180, these just came out!"

Harry walked out of Magical Menagerie carrying a box. "It's a kneazle," he said, showing Tom the odd looking cat-like creature inside. "They're very intelligent. I thought you would appreciate that."

"I do," he said, petting it. He looked up at Harry. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome, darling."

"What will you name him?"

"Lord Voldemort," Tom said, drawing shocked surprise out of the two men.

"What did you just say?" Harry asked him, handing the box to Albus to take the boy by his arms. "Where did you get that name from?"

Tom gasped, seeing how alarmed his father reacted to it. "I heard you say it in your sleep a while back. You were screaming it. I thought it sounded interesting. Should I not name him that?"

Harry looked up at Albus. Albus gave him a nod. "I guess it's a fine name for an exotic animal. Fitting."

Albus ushered the two along, feeling his stomach growling. "Let's go meet up with the Flamels for lunch."

"That sounds great," Harry said, clasping hands with both of them.

* * *

"Remember," Harry said, taking Tom by the arm before he perched on the stool in the front of the dining hall. "Not Slytherin."

"Right," Tom said, giving him a nod. He sat on the stool and Albus lowered the hat over his head. "Not Slytherin," he reminded him, giving him a smile of encouragement.

"Slytherin, through and through!" the hat shouted.

Tom bit his thumbnail, looking guilty at both men. "I did say it."

They looked at each other and frowned.

* * *

" _You lied to me._ "

Harry opened one eye, and found Tom standing over the bed looking very cross. "What's the matter?" He gave Albus a little shake to rouse him. "Are we late? Did we sleep in?"

"No, I can't sleep. I've been thinking on this after talking with Avery and Mulcibur after classes," he said, and those names drew a frown on Harry's lips. "You both can't possibly be my fathers. Two men can't make babies. Which one of you is my real father and who is my mother?"

"Oh," he said, cringing and sitting upright.

Albus gave his knee a pat, knowing Tom was far too intelligent to not figure something out soon.

"Um, I'm your father, Tom. Your mother died giving birth to you."

"That's a lie…" Tom said, looking into his father's eyes, backing away in disbelief. "You're not my real father, are you? Neither of you are."

"Tom, come here," Harry said, holding his arms out, scooping him up when he threw himself into them. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry. Your mother died giving birth to you, that part is true. I adopted you the day after you were born. Your father's unimportant, a Muggle who treated your mother very poorly and left her to starve. That's all you need to know about him. But know this," he said, feeling the boy whimpering against him. He cupped his chin, looking straight into his eyes so that he could see the truth. "Albus and me are your fathers no matter what those boys say. We love you more than anything else in the entire world."

Tom sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "What was her name?"

"Merope," Harry said. "Her name was Merope."

The boy smiled. "That's a nice name."

"Yes, it is."

* * *

January 1943

Harry dropped down on the sofa beside Albus and gave him a strawberry. "He found the Chamber of Secrets last night. I followed him under the cloak. He didn't release it, Albus. I'm so proud of him."

Albus patted his knee. "You've done a fine job of raising him."

"As have you. Those friends of his worry me. They worship that man. Tom worships him. They're delusional, thinks he's got the right idea."

"When it comes down to it he'll make the right choice, Harry," Albus said, putting an arm around his shoulders.

Harry dropped his head on his chest. "I hope you're right. I'm so worried. He's not that adorable little boy anymore. He's so stiff, reminds me so much of his other self. He's taller than me now, too," he said, pouting. "Damn you tall people."

Albus chuckled. "You worry too much."

* * *

Albus comforted the weeping girl and looked at Tom. "It's alright, Myrtle. I'm sure he didn't mean it." He beckoned his son over to his side in the hallway in front of the Transfigurations classroom. "Did you mean to curse her, Tom? Did you do it on purpose?"

Tom looked off into the hallway, rolling his eyes. "She's such a nuisance. My wand slipped."

"Wands don't slip," he said. "Detention tonight."

"What? You can't give me detention, I'm a Prefect!"

"Go on, Myrtle." Albus turned to the boy, looking somewhat perturbed. "Of course I can give you detention, I'm a teacher, that trumps Prefect."

"Famous Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in the world a mere teacher. You should be Minister of Magic. They've offered you the position numerous times!"

Albus crinkled his nose. "I don't want that kind of power. It's too tempting to abuse it," he said, growing angry.

"This is such a waste." Tom turned to leave.

"Do not be late for detention, Tom. In my classroom, eight o'clock."

Tom waved him off. "Fine, fine."

* * *

May 1944

Harry carded his fingers through his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. He set his glasses on his desk in wait for Albus's arrival.

"What is it, Harry?" Albus said as he entered the empty classroom. "What's happened?"

"He was in the Restricted Section a short while ago. He was looking up dark magic." He sighed, his hands shaking as he put his glasses back on. "It didn't matter; the love, the attention we gave him. I did the best I could and he's still going to turn into him."

Albus crossed his arms. "He's not going to turn into him."

Harry fought not to cry. "Yes he is."

"No, he's not, Harry." Albus pulled him out of his chair and hugged him. "He's a good boy. Loads of young wizards and witches go in there to look that stuff up. He's far too intelligent to not think about it. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

Harry nuzzled into his robes. "I found a photo of Grindelwald in his wallet."

Albus held him out at arm's length. "Stop spying on him."

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "I know the moment I turn my head it'll happen."

"You're making yourself paranoid, Harry. It's getting worse." He petted his hair, having pulled him back into his arms.

He trembled in his embrace. "I can't tell you in words how much of a monster the man was. He had you murdered, Albus. He tried to force a student to do it. He hunted me like an animal and struck me down without mercy."

Albus sighed, still petting him. "He would never do that now, I promise."

Harry inhaled a shivering breath. "I hope you're right."

* * *

June, 1945

"What is this?" Harry shook Tom's homework in his face. The words 'For the Greater Good' were written on it in Tom's penmanship. "Hm?" Lord Voldemort rubbed around his legs.

"What?" Tom said, feigning ignorance. He stood up from the table, towering over his father to brush past him. "It's just words, dad." The Head Boy gazed at himself in the mirror, looking at his beautiful blue-green eyes.

Harry scooped Tom's wand up and shook it several times, causing it to regurgitate the spells it had cast.

Tom whirled around, stunned. "What? You're checking up on me again? That's my business!" He tore the wand away, furious. "You're always spying on me. I'm not doing anything wrong!"

"Who'd you use the stunner spell on?" Harry asked him, livid, with his hands on his hips. Lord Voldemort jumped up into Tom's arms to glare at Harry.

Tom's mouth fell open. "A Nogtail!"

Harry flinched and dropped his hands. "Oh, Tom, I'm sorry." He handed Tom a stack of papers and took Lord Voldemort from him to apologise. "I got you an application to the Ministry of Magic, talked to someone in the Department of Mysteries earlier, said your scores would easily land you a position like you wanted." But Tom set the papers down.

"I've changed my mind about working there," he said. "I'm thinking about travelling. Visiting other countries."

"During war?" Harry said, his lip twitching. He set Lord Voldemort on the table. "You're going to join his army, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?"

Lord Voldemort hissed at him.

Tom glared at his father. "I'm tired of you telling me what I can and can't do!"

"I won't allow it!"

"You can't stop me, I'm of age now! You're not even my real father!"

Harry took his wand out. "I am your real father and I will stop you!"

Tom held his wand up, pointing it at his father. "Lower your wand, dad."

"You lower yours," Harry warned.

Lord Voldemort took a swipe at Harry, distracting him and Tom struck.

* * *

"…are you alright? Look at me! What happened?"

Harry opened his eyes, groaning. He rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. "He's gone, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's gone," Albus told him. He pulled Harry into his arms as he started to cry.

* * *

July, 1945

Standing off to the side under his cloak, Harry scanned all the faces of the boys marching down the street in front of Nurmengard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tom. He came every day to watch them, praying Tom was still alive and that he might save him.

Off in the distance, Gellert Grindelwald was watching his boys and caught sight of Harry. Sneaking up behind him, he stunned him before he knew what happened.

"What an excellent find."

* * *

"Tom, my boy," Grindelwald said, addressing the young man as he entered the room. The door closed and locked behind him.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" The man pulled the cloak away from the chair he was standing next to, revealing Harry beneath. Tom paled and Harry cringed. "Dad?" He looked up at Grindelwald. "What's going on?"

"He was outside looking for you. I saw him through the cloak. He is Albus Dumbledore's lover, is he not?"

Tom grimaced. "He's my father, sir. What are you planning on doing?"

"Not me," he said, grinning. "You. You want to get him back, right? They ruined your lives, right? That's why you came running to me, is it not? Killing this man will destroy Dumbledore. Prove your loyalty to me. Kill this man."

Tom gaped at him. "I'm not killing him."

Grindelwald pulled his wand free. "Oh, yes you will or I'll kill you both. Do it, Tom."

"You sonuvabitch. Don't you touch my son." Harry closed his eyes. "Do what he says, Tom. Kill me." He heard the spell being cast and braced himself for death, having failed Tom, the world, Albus. He heard something big hit the ground beside him and opened his eyes, gasping as Tom pulled him out of the chair.

"Are you alright, dad? Did he hurt you?"

Harry looked down, seeing the corpse of Grindelwald with a look of pure shock forever etched on his face. "Oh gods," he said, grabbing his wand out of the dead man's robes. He unravelled the cloak, taking Tom's hand. "Take his wand. We have to get out of here right now."

* * *

August, 1948

"Oh, there you are," Harry said, seeing Tom and Myrtle step out of the fireplace. The former Ravenclaw gazed up at her new husband, smiling brightly. "How was your honeymoon?"

Albus scooted Harry over next to him to make room for the newlyweds. "It was amazing! We rode camels," Myrtle said.

Both men grinned. "That sounds like fun."

"Tom told me the best story the other day. Tell it again, Tom." Myrtle shook his knee.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Tom, let's hear all the new, interesting things you've added to the tall tale."

Albus chuckled.

Tom cleared his throat, smirking at his father. "So, being an all around angst-riddled teen we all love and remember, no pun intended, I easily overpowered and hung my father from the ceiling, bounced him around the walls, you know, the usual after he threatened to have me arrested for becoming an evil wizard. Lord Voldemort attacked him, as well. It was truly embarrassing." He winked at his father's red face and continued. "Then, as the worried old granny that he is, he comes looking for me and, again, is easily captured by the dark wizard Grindelwald like the damsel he is and I, the savour of the wizarding world, had to rescue him. And he thought I was going to kill him. They both did! I was never more disappointed in the man."

"And I was never more proud," Harry added. He snuggled into Albus's side.

Albus kissed the top of his head. "You see?" he whispered into his ear. "Not only is he not a Dark Lord, he's a bloody hero. You did it, Harry. You did good."

"We did it, Albus. You did good, too."

The End


	2. Moments in Limbo

White. His eyes open and all he sees is white. And he's naked. He breathes in the crisp, fresh air, feeling very much alive. He does not know how he got there but he knows where he was: limbo. He's been here before, a short time back when Lord Voldemort struck him down with the killing curse. Lord Voldemort…Harry stands up and looks around. "I need clothing," he said, and in front of him robes appear. He pulls them on and listens. And he hears it in the distance, the thumping and thrashing sounds against the floor. The follows it, moving through a hazy mist as he approaches it, the grotesque and tiny form of Lord Voldemort lying on the floor.

He remembers what Albus Dumbledore had told him the first time he was here. _"You cannot help it."_ He wonders if that's really true now since the Dark Lord is dead. "I need a duvet," he says and grabs the duvet that appears in front of him suspended in air. Carefully, he lifts the child into his arms, it's flayed skin peeling and rotten. He smells of burned flesh and cries out as Harry wraps it up as gently as can be, taking great care to not disturb any of his wounds. "Are you hungry?" he asks him, but he only cries in return. "I need a bottle of warm milk," he says and takes it in hand, easing the nipple into the child's mouth.

Voldemort feeds from it greedily, like everything he's ever done in life but Harry knows he must be terribly hungry and let's the thought flit away. He finishes the bottle quickly, crying when there's nothing left. "You want more?" Harry asks him while he puts him over his shoulder and pats his back until he belches. "I need another bottle," he says, and feeds it to him, ignoring his cries when it's empty. "That's enough," he says, pouting at the child. "I need a cradle."

* * *

Harry is staring up at the glittering glass dome covering them. He smiles because it keep Voldemort occupied for hours on end. He closes his book and looks into the cradle beside him. The child's skin has healed very nicely. It's all white and clear. Voldemort's snake-like eyes open and he growls at the boy, hissing in Parseltongue at him. "I can't understand you," Harry says, frowning at the child. "Are you hungry? Do you need a change?"

The child ignores him but Harry stands and checks his nappy and asks for a new one and for the old one to be disposed of. He gets a jar of pureed peaches and puts the child in his seat to feed him. The child reaches out, wanting to feed himself. Harry shushes him with a finger. "Not until you're strong enough," he tells him. "When you can eat solid foods."

The child has outgrown his clothing. He's growing in size and getting stronger every day. He has yet to speak to Harry in English, but he knows it will come with time. He wipes the child's mouth with a napkin and sets him on the floor. "Would you like a toy?" he asks him, and asks for one when he says 'yes'. He returns to his chair and picks his book back up to read while Voldemort spins his top again and again.

* * *

He's nearly as tall as Harry now. He is greedy, ignorant and cruel. He hurts Harry whenever possible, striking his with fists, slashing him with claws. But Harry just touches him, caresses his cheeks, letting him hurt him. He's on top of him, holding him down, choking him but Harry cannot die. He weeps for him when he stops, and watches him throw himself on the floor to have a tantrum. Harry recovers, healing himself by asking to be healed. This always infuriates Voldemort, he wants Harry to be in constant pain. He climbs back on top of him, with his hands around his throat and uses English to speak to him for the first time since Harry's arrival. "Why can't I kill you?!" he asks him, his wraith-like form is quivering with hatred.

"Because we're in limbo," Harry tells him as soon as he can talk. He is slapped across the face, hard and cruelly. It takes his breath away, but he's so selfless that he does not retaliate. He reaches out, touching the man's snake-like face, cupping his cheek as he's slapped again. Tears trickle down his cheeks. "You are dead," he tells him.

"I am immortal!" he screams, punching Harry in the stomach and throwing him to the floor. He's done horrible things to him up to this point. He is a monster, he is pure evil. He tries to break him, make him serve him, bend him to his will, but Harry is strong. He won't be broken, not by Voldemort, not by anyone.

"Do your worst," he tells him, showing little emotion. "You can't kill me. You never could."

* * *

He towers over Harry now, but he is less cruel. He looks very much like the man who struck Harry down. His long, skeletal fingers wrap around Harry's throat but he hesitates. He is unsure whether he wants him in constant pain any longer. He doesn't know why, perhaps he no longer cares about Harry, or perhaps it's the opposite. He is conflicted by newfound emotion. He wants to hate him but he cannot muster up the hatred anymore. His hand falls away, back to his side and he walks away without a word.

He finds himself looking at him a lot. Harry has always got his nose in a book or is writing in his journal. He wonders what he writes about, wonders if it's about his time with him. He refuses to ask him, though. He would never show Harry any sort of civility. Certainly no kindness. He is weak, he is ordinary, he is not special. He has caused him more trouble than he could possibly imagine and it still burned in his mind. Now he's trapped here in limbo here with him, possibly forever. Dumbledore was right; there are worse things than death. This was a prison.

He has no wand. No matter how many times he asks for one none was given. Nothing is given to him. He is completely dependant upon Harry to survive and it is heart wrenching. He is lucky that Harry is so kind or he would suffer. "Are you hungry?" Harry asks him. He gives him a terse nod and joins the young man at the table to eat lunch. He can stomach him enough to sit by him now. Harry always tries to speak with him, a real conversation starter, but Voldemort never replies. He is far too dignified a person to converse with such a boy.

* * *

"Potter, look," Voldemort says, pointing to the top of his head. "I've got hair."

Harry gives him a nod. "Yes, it seems that you do."

His eyes were no longer scarlet, the pupils no longer slits. His white skin has a touch of blush to it. Harry thinks he looks a whole lot like the man he saw in the Pensieve while he asked Dumbledore for the job of being the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He's not handsome but not really snake-like anymore.

They speak civilly to one another now, and the dome begins to grant some of Voldemort's requests.

"Potter are you hungry yet?" Voldemort asks him.

"Oh, yeah," Harry says. "I could definitely eat." He sits down at the table and smiles. Voldemort has asked for Cornish Pasties and roast potatoes, one of his favourite meals. When his plate appears on the table he inhales its fragrance, blissfully content. "Thank you," he says, "That was quite considerate of you.

"You're welcome," Voldemort replies, giving him a smile as he tucks into his meal.

* * *

"What are you looking at, Harry?" Voldemort asks him, catching him looking at him again. He feels himself blush and looks away, not wanting Harry to see his red cheeks.

"Nothing, sorry," Harry says, also blushing and looking off into the room. "It's just amazing how you look now." He is gorgeous, terribly handsome. Harry cannot believe how good-looking the man is now. And his personality matches his looks. He is charming, a delightful conversationalist, and Harry enjoys spending time with him now.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Voldemort replies, chuckling.

"It was," Harry says, and Voldemort stops chuckling. He glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Yes, he's been watching him, too. Perhaps it's being in limbo that makes him look so handsome, or perhaps his hatred for him blinded him of that fact before but it's undeniable; Harry is very attractive and for the first time in his life he feels lonely and is lucky to have him there.

He would have to apologise to Harry about all of the horrible things he's done to him. It was the polite thing to do, after all he did murder his parents and torment him throughout his teen-aged life. Yes, he would definitely have to apologise to him.

* * *

"Call me Tom."

"But I thought that was a common name."

"I don't want to be associated with Lord Voldemort anymore. We're two different people now. He hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

"You wouldn't?"

"How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?"

"I want to believe you. I really do."

"Please forgive me."

"I forgive you, Tom."

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome."

* * *

"Let me do that," Tom says, tilting Harry's head back and taking the straight razor in hand to shave his face for him.

"Oh, I can do it," Harry says, trembling against his chest as he leans in, drawing the razor blade up the length of his neck. He wants to trust him, needs to, so he stands straight with his head resting on the man's shoulder.

Tom's fingers curl in his hair. "You're shivering," he says softly, his lips touching the shell of his ear.

"I'm sorry," Harry says, feeling guilty about it. He wants to trust him.

Tom caresses his cheeks and tilts his head, checking to see if he's missed any spots. He lingers in it, his skin is so soft and he's so pretty. He watches him in the mirror suspended in air in front of them. He sees himself with Harry, sees his arm come around and press into his waist. He smiles. They look good together. "All done," he says, clipping his cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Harry smiles. "Thanks, Tom," he says, wiping his face with a damp wash rag. "That was really kind of you."

"You made my life better. I want to make yours better now."

"That's very nice of you."

* * *

Harry finds himself cornered again. He turns quickly, backing up, feeling himself pressing his body flat against the wardrobe. "Yes?" he says, watching Tom plant a hand on either side of his head, blocking him in.

"Why are you still afraid of me, Harry?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Tom. I'm just…nervous around you." He's so tall and handsome and he smells fantastic. It's his beautiful face that makes Harry wary of him, he looks like Tom Riddle, he is Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle is Lord Voldemort. He could not not connect the two.

"Have a drink with me," Tom asks him, taking his hand.

"Sure, Tom," Harry says, letting him lead him away.

He finds himself standing in a room filled with flowers, it was like a field of brilliance. There seemed to be no end to it. Had they left the dome? "What's going on?" he asks Tom, gaping at him.

"Come," Tom says, pulling Harry along through the field. They come up to a spot in the field set up with a picnic rug, basket and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket. "Sit," he says, and drops down on the checkered rug. He watches Harry sit and gestures to him, sweeping his finger along the length of the rug. "Lie down on your back and close your eyes. We're going to play a game."

Harry laughs nervously but lies down on his back, takes his glasses off and closes his eyes. "Alright, what now?"

"I want you to trust me," Tom says, hovering over Harry.

He can feel his breath on his face as he speaks. He starts trembling. "Okay, Tom," he says, and bites down on his bottom lip.

Tom opens the picnic basket and plucks a grape off of its vine. "Open your mouth," he says, smiling when Harry complies. He feeds him the grape, watches him bite down on it.

"Was that a grape? I love grapes," he says, chewing it up, smiling.

"I know," Tom says, cupping Harry at the nape of his neck. He can feel him trembling against his fingers. He sighs. "Lift your head up," he says, holding a glass of champagne to his lips. He tips it, letting him drink from it. He traces the length of the faded scar on Harry's forehead. "I fancy you."

Harry's eyes open. Tom is still holding his head up. His lips are so close. He takes a shivering breath as he closes in on him to press them to his. And they kiss. It's soft, lingering and chaste. Tom is gentle, careful, trying his best not to frighten Harry too much. He tips his head, daring to go a bit farther, parting his lips to see if Harry will part his, too. He does. He extends his tongue, feeling it touch Harry's puffy lips as it slides into his mouth and comes in contact with the young man's. It feels wonderful. He sits back, looking in Harry's eyes. "How was that?" he breathes, fearing the answer he'll give him.

"That was very nice," Harry says through a bashful smile.

* * *

Harry screams into the room. He's having a nightmare, a really bad one this time. It wakes Tom up and he runs to his bed to wake him up. "Harry, it's just a dream," he says, giving the young man a little shake.

Harry opens his eyes and is startled by Tom's presence. "What are you doing?" he asks him, pulling his duvet up to his chin.

Tom frowns, but tries to hide it. "You were having a bad dream."

"Oh," Harry says, feeling guilty. Tom turns to go back to his bed but Harry stops him. "Wait, don't go."

Tom whirls around, gasping, his eyes and mouth are wide open. "What?"

Harry clutches his duvet but looks to the other side of his bed. "Stay with me tonight. In case I have another nightmare."

"You sure?" Tom asks him, climbing onto the bed. "You can tell me if you aren't comfortable and I'll leave. I swear it, Harry."

Harry smiles at him and closes his eyes. "I believe you, Tom."

* * *

Tom is kissing Harry again, something that's become his favourite thing to do anymore. He's feathering kisses along his throat, occasionally sucking on the skin, taking it into his mouth. Harry isn't trembling anymore. He hasn't trembled in his presence for nearly a week. "I do fancy you, Harry," he tells him.

"I fancy you too, Tom," Harry tells him back. He can look into his eyes now without panic rising racing though his veins. He doesn't think about Lord Voldemort anymore when he does this now, he only thinks about Tom. Tom was right: Lord Voldemort and he were two very different people. He was not the man who had messed so wrongly with the morality of magic. "Kiss me again."

"Absolutely," Tom says before pressing their lips together again, kissing him passionately.

Tom has Harry cornered again at the wardrobe, hands planted on either side of his head. Harry's giggling bashfully. He bats his eyelashes at the tall man. "What's on your mind, Tom?"

"I think you know," he says, and buries his face in Harry's neck. He takes him around the waist, pulling him away from the wardrobe and pivots him toward the bed.

Harry lets him. He knew this would eventually happen, he would want to sleep with him. They fall on the bed and Tom begins loosening his tie while he toes off his shoes. Harry reaches for the buttons of his shirt but Tom stays his hand. "Let's take this slow," he says, smiling. "We'll go until you say 'stop', alright? No pressure."

That eases the worry in Harry's mind. He nestles languidly beside him, staring longingly into his beautiful eyes.

Tom eases him back against the mattress and kisses him. He kisses the line of his jaw next and moves to his neck. He unbuttons the first button on Harry's shirt and places a kiss on his collarbone. He waits a moment for Harry to protest. When he says nothing, he proceeds, unbuttoning the second button and placing a kiss above the swell of pectoral muscle. He repeats the process, waiting a moment after each button for Harry to stop him. He flicks his tongue over his hardened nipple and dips it in his navel. His shirt is fully unbuttoned now. Tom sits up, smiling down at Harry as he unbuttons his own shirt. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry tells him. "I'm okay."

* * *

"Harry, wake up!" Tom shouts, taking the young man into his arms to cradle him. He knows the persistent nightmares are his fault. He sweeps him up effortlessly and carries him off to the bath. He lowers him into the tub and kneels down beside him, wiping the sweaty fringe from his eyes. "How can I help you?" he asks him, feeling terribly guilty about the state of his mental health.

"Honestly, I'm fine, Tom," Harry tells him, touching his cheek. "Stop beating yourself up."

Tom rings the soapy sponge out over Harry's torso and lathers him up. Coddling him was something he's grown to love doing for Harry. "Chin up."

Harry leans back against the warmed porcelain, closing his eyes and letting his head loll around while he enjoys Tom bathing him. "Are you going to join me?"

"Of course I am. I just love taking care of you, Harry, like you took care of me."

Something happens then. Across the dome a pair of gates appear and part open, flooding the room with blinding white light. Tom throws his hand up, shielding his eyes from it. "It's beautiful."

"What is?" Harry asks him, looking in the direction that Tom is squinting at. "I don't see anything."

"It's Heaven, Harry. We can leave here."

Harry sits up and squints, looking around the dome. "I don't see anything, Tom."

Tom gasps. "No…That must mean you're not really dead because Heaven would have taken you in a heartbeat, Harry. You're practically an angel as it is." He sighs, knowing they have to part. He lowers his head. "I have to assume that when I go through those gates you'll return to your body. You can have a life now, Harry, a true, long life."

Harry takes his hands. "But I don't want a true, long life if you're not there with me, Tom. What are we going to do?"

Tom looks at the gates. "Another time," he says to them and they close and fade away.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks him, pleading to him with his eyes.

"I'm already in heaven, Harry, I'm already here," he tells him as he climbs into the tub, taking the young man into his arms. "I'll remain here with you as long as you want me to. When you wish to leave, you just tell me and I'll go."

"He was wrong," Harry tells him, nuzzling in Tom's embrace.

"Who?"

"Albus Dumbledore," Harry says. "Let's just leave it at that."

"Whatever you say, love," Tom says, kissing the top of his head. "I'm good with that."

The End


	3. Moments in Captivity

Within the depths of the old mansion there lived a boy of 15 who was locked in a room without windows. His mind was filled with dread straight from the Dark Lord's mind. It poisoned him, kept him docile, unable to fight or think straight. He was constantly nauseous and perpetually ill with fever. He spent his days and nights sleeping, only waking up to follow the orders of his permanent caregiver.

The door to the room opened and closed and Draco Malfoy sneered at the Boy-Who-Lived with nothing but hatred. "Get up, it's dinner time, Potter."

Harry Potter moved to the door in a daze. Drugs burned through the lining of his stomach and stunted all coherent thinking. He let Malfoy lead him through the house toward the dining room and let him sit him down beside the Dark Lord to dine. The young Slytherin forced a fork into his hand and pushed his head down toward his plate. "Eat, Potter."

The Dark Lord questioned Malfoy about Harry's care. The boy had been a prisoner for almost a month since the instance in Little Hangelton's graveyard. Everyone was learning to cope with the changes in their lives.

Nagini slithered into the dining room and bared her fangs at the Gryffindor. Harry hardly noticed, he concentrated on doing what he was told and swallowed what he was chewing as per Malfoy's instructions.

This was the last thing in the world Draco thought he might end up doing as a vocation but it was his master's will that forced him to do it. He was Harry's caregiver, living in the bedroom with him like a servant, caring for the other boy's needs and not needs, doing whatever the Dark Lord told him to do without question. He wouldn't finish his schooling like Potter wouldn't. He was to be Harry's manservant for life. It was humiliating and gratifying all in one. He hated Potter and he was in charge of Potter. He tortured Potter whenever he could. Unfortunately, Potter was drugged up to the point of unconsciousness and barely noticed his bullying. Still, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted to torture the boy without repercussion.

Draco had to help the Gryffindor eat, feeding him himself as Harry couldn't stab any part of his pasty with his fork, missing the plate completely many times, to the point that the Dark Lord sighed and looked at him, and he never looked at him. "Open your mouth, Potter. Come on, take a bite. Now chew it. There you go, good boy."

The Dark Lord resumed eating, satisfied with his young Death Eater's performance of dealing with his other living Horcrux.

* * *

At first, Harry resisted him. He certainly couldn't look at him, especially since he was bathing him at that moment. "I can do this myself," he told him, feeling utterly humiliated. He refused to loosen his foetal position he was sitting in, it was ridiculous as to why he wasn't allowed to bathe himself, he was 15 years old…or maybe 16. "Malfoy, stop!" Harry shouted when the other boy tried to pry his hands free from around his legs.

"Shut up, Potter, you bloody-well know I have to do this!" he cried, clenching his teeth. "Stop acting like such a baby. You're going to get us both in big trouble again!"

"I'm not trying to get us into trouble, I'm just sick of this." Reluctantly, though, he allowed the other boy to finish his duties and get him ready for bed. Malfoy combed his hair for him and pulled his night shirt down over his head, effectively messing his hair up again. "Just give me the comb," Harry said, sighing. Draco swatted his hand away and combed it again.

It was times like these, when the Dark Lord made the young Slytherin care for Harry like a toddler, it made the young captive miss freedom most. He had no idea what day it was or what was happening in the outside world. He was forced to wear a collar like a dog that inhibited his wild magic. He would never leave Riddle House again. He was a prisoner, he was a living Horcrux.

"Come on, we're late." Draco took Harry by the hand and they ran down through the extensive hallways until they reached their master's chambers. Draco rapped his knuckles on the main door and said "He's going to bed right now, my Lord." He waited for a reply but got none. He shrugged and dragged Harry to his room. He pushed the other boy into the room and began undressing himself for that night's slumber. "No problems, get in bed."

The door to the bedroom opened and the Dark Lord peeked his head inside. "Is he in bed?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco said, bowing to the man.

"Did he get his bath?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Did he take his pills?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Harry winced in pain. His scar burned.

"Did he give you any problems?"

"No, my Lord," Draco said, averting his eyes.

Without another word, the Dark Lord closed and locked the door. Harry's scar stopped hurting.

Draco dropped down onto the bed and curled up in his duvet. Harry rolled onto his side. "Thanks, Malfoy," he said under his breath and closed his eyes, not expecting anything in return.

"You're welcome, Potter, now go to sleep."

Harry was stupefied. He shrugged and closed his eyes, wondering what else Malfoy might say to him in the future that didn't involve instructions.

* * *

Draco clamped a hand down over Harry's mouth in attempt to block the screaming he was doing over the intense pain he was experiencing. He was panicked, so fearful of the Dark Lord and for Harry's wellbeing. "Please, Potter, stop. I don't know what to do!" he cried, knowing Harry was in agony but unsure of what to do about it.

The Dark Lord opened their door, furious with the noises emanated from his Horcrux and the gigantic headache the Chosen One was giving him. "Why is he screaming again? I'm in a meeting!"

"He's in a great deal of pain, my Lord, he's been vomiting, too. He needs a medi-witch," Draco told him, praying the wraith would grant him use of their medi-witch.

"I'll send Wiggy up to give him some medication," Voldemort told him, irritated. "Do try and keep him quiet. I'm in a meeting, this is important."

Wiggy the House-Elf appeared shortly thereafter and handed Draco several magical pills to administer to the boy. "Wiggy is giving Master Malfoy the pills to shut up Master Potter, sir. Do that, shut him up."

"I'm trying," Draco shouted, shooing the house-elf away. He shoved the pills into Harry's mouth and covered it again with his hand, hoping he'd either swallow them or they'd dissolve in his mouth.

A medi-witch appeared within the hour and scanned the boy for ailment. "It's his appendix, it's ruptured," he said, and removed the offending organ post-haste.

Harry curled up against Draco while his caregiver petted his hair. "It's over, Potter," he said in a soothing voice. "It's over. No more pain."

* * *

They were at the opera. Harry looked down at himself. He was wearing a tuxedo. He was the Name of Change for the Dark Side but he had no choice but to be that. He couldn't think straight, he was always drugged, he only knew what he was told to do and it annoyed him incessantly. Several cameras snapped photos of him sitting so calmly next to the Dark Lord in his little handsome tuxedo, proving to the world that Harry believed in the master's word.

The Dark Lord persistently gestured to The-Boy-Who-Lived, even hugging him a few times while flashbulbs popped and crowds gathered around them before the performance began. There were floating microphones circling them. Draco squeezed Harry's hand and gave him a nudge. "You can do this, Potter. Remember what we memorised." He encouraged the boy to speak, to say the words his master had prepared for him.

Harry gave him a nod and looked out at the crowd gathered beneath their box seat. He cleared his throat. "It is the will of Lord Voldemort to keep the peace between the good wizarding folk and the Mudbloods and their supporters, however savage or barbaric they've become. This world will come together and learn civility, as he commands it." Instantly, he felt the happiness of his master swimming through his head. He smiled very charmingly without control, mimicking the Dark lord's glee. Both Draco and Lord Voldemort squeezed his hands, both so pleased with Harry's performance.

Draco sighed with great relief and dropped his head on the other boy's shoulder, letting the knots in his stomach loosen up. The Dark Lord smiled at the cameras while he patted his Horcrux's cheek. "Go on," he said, waving off the people. "Let's start the show." He turned to Harry and Draco as the lights dimmed. He pointed at them, still smiling, something he hardly ever did. "You did good, both of you."

Both boys bowed their heads to him, so thankful they had pleased him. Thank you, my Lord. Thank you," they both rambled until he looked away to watch the opera.

* * *

Harry rummaged through the crisper looking for something he could heat up and take up to Draco. He was certain they'd had chicken soup some time back, although he was unsure how far back that was. It felt like it was not too long ago so the possibility of leftovers being stored inside was very plausible.

The Dark Lord entered the kitchens, hearing something fall on the ground and shatter. He waved his wand over the broken pickle jar and looked up at the cringing boy standing by the crisper. "What are you doing?" he asked him. "You can't wait for breakfast? It's in 20 minutes."

"Sorry, my Lord, it's Draco. He's sick, I was looking for that chicken soup we had the other day. I wanna take some up to him," he replied while he fidgeted with the hem of his night shirt.

"Just ask Wiggy to do it. Draco is your servant, not the other way around," Voldemort said, agitated.

"I don't mind, I want to help him," Harry replied, nonplussed. "He's always doing everything, it'd be nice to do something for him for a change."

The Dark Lord threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. Harry rubbed the prickle in his scar away. Voldemort tipped his head. "Have you taken your pills?" he asked, curious as to whether the boy was even able to care for himself as loopy as he was.

"Yes, my Lord, first thing this morning," Harry said and instantly felt his master's happiness swirl around through his brain. He smiled back at the man, very pleased with himself.

"You never fail to impress me, my boy. Keep it up." The Dark Lord left the room, leaving Harry to resume rummaging around in the crisper for chicken soup.

Wiggy appeared beside him then, holding a bowl of warmed chicken soup in her tiny hands. "Master is asking me to give this to Master Harry to take to Master Draco, sir."

"Thank you, Wiggy," Harry said, taking it out of her hands.

"Master is also telling Wiggy to tell Master Harry to be back down for breakfast with Master in 15 minutes and not one minute later."

"I won't be late, I promise." He took the stairs two at a time and raced through the hallways until he reached his and Draco's chambers. "How are you?" he asked Draco, who was sitting up in bed with a complexion something skin to an off-colour of green. He was holding a bucket which he placed on the floor to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. He patted the mattress so Harry would sit down beside him. "Bloody Muggle flu," he said, watching Harry climb onto the mattress and take the top off of the container of soup he was holding. "Oh, what's that? For me, Harry?"

"Yeah, remember I grew up with Muggles, Draco, chicken soup will help your flu and cold." He set the bowl in Draco's lap and held up a spoon. "Just sip it throughout the day, I'll come back to check up on you after breakfast."

"Thanks, Harry," Draco said, smiling up at him despite how ill he felt.

Harry smiled back and patted his knee before tucking the covers in around his legs. "I have to go, he'll be so cross if I'm late." He hopped off the bed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Harry wept silently in Draco's arms while they sat together in the parlour waiting for Lord Voldemort to come and get them. Draco petted his hair softly and whispered encouraging words into his ear. As panic began to rise inside of him, Harry's heart raced while his breath turned to panting. He had become somewhat agoraphobic over the last year or so. Despite being held prisoner, Harry had never felt as safe before then than he did now inside Riddle House. His experiences with the outside world, Hogwarts especially, had been some of the best times in his life, but also most of the worst.

Lord Voldemort was taking them both to Hogwarts for a celebration that day. He was allowing Muggle-born children to return as students as a kind gesture, as the school had become pretty empty without them. He had signed a peace treaty with their side to compromise and end the second wizarding war once and for all.

Now 19 years old, Harry had grown quite tall over time and he was adorably the-boy-next-door handsome. He clung to Draco, gripping him around the waist as tears and snot soaked into the other man's tuxedo jacket. Draco had also filled out quite nicely. He was very tall and lean, with a classically chisselled face and white-white hair.

"Come on, Harry, I'll be with you the whole time. I'm not gonna let anything touch you." He tipped his chin up to look at him. His glasses were askew. He adjusted them for him and pecked his lips with his own to try and cheer him up. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, of course I do," Harry replied, while his heart began to slow and his breathing resumed back to normal. "I always trust you, I'm just so scared."

"What did you fear while you were at Hogwarts, remember? It was our master. You don't have to fear him anymore, do you?"

"No, of course not," Harry said, chuckling.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Lord Voldemort asked him as he entered the room. He was rubbing the sadness away from his temples as he crossed the room to check on his boy. He dropped a hand over his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "Tell me what's wrong."

"He's afraid to go to Hogwarts, you know…" Draco said as Harry began to panic again when his master entered the room. He knew they would be leaving soon.

"Maybe we should give him some medication, that might help," the Dark Lord offered, looking down at his boy with distress. "What do you think about that, Harry? Would you like to take something to help calm your nerves?"

"No, thank you, I don't want to start taking pills again. I'm being silly, I'm a regular old ninny," he whined. He took his glasses off and wiped his eyes.

Both Voldemort and Draco shushed him from the nonsense he was spouting. "Honestly, Harry, you are the only wizard other than Albus Dumbledore to stand up to me in a duel," Voldemort told him to reassure his confidence. "I don't want to hear you talk like that again."

Bellatrix Lestrange entered the parlour to summon the trio and clucked her tongue as she crossed the room to help them with Harry. "Oh, honestly, Harry," she said, taking his hand to help him stand. She put her arm around his shoulder and mouthed "I got this," to the men, and walked the young man out to the carriage.

* * *

Scores of young wizards and witches surrounded Harry as he entered the dining hall, all wanting to talk to him or get his autograph or take a photo with him. He was overwhelmed with surprise, shocked that anyone even remembered him. He signed as many autographs as he could before the Dark Lord swept him away, off to the front of the room so they could take their places and the ceremony could begin.

Harry looked around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone he once knew and spotted two very familiar faces, seeing them waving frantically at him to get his attention. His eyes lit up and his mouth dropped open. He waved back at Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum who were sitting at the Gryffindor table. Hermione was holding a toddler in her lap. He looked around for Ron, baffled as to why she was with Krum when he thought she hadn't cared all that much for the man. He nudged Draco and pointed into the crowd at them. "Hermione's here, Draco, I'm so excited."

Draco felt a pang of jealousy hearing Harry say that, but he faked a smile and gave the couple a curt nod. "What about the other one? What was his name, Weasel-something?"

"Ron Weasley," Harry corrected him with a smirk, knowing he'd said his name wrong on purpose. "I don't see him. I don't see any of his family, maybe they didn't come."

Lord Voldemort leaned up against Harry and whispered in Parseltongue into his ear. _"I didn't invite them. They've been…difficult, to say the least."_

" _I see,"_ Harry replied, pouting. _"I'm sorry they've given you trouble, my Lord. I'm very sorry."_ He patted his white hand.

Lord Voldemort chuckled. _"Why are you apologising for their actions?"_

" _It's probably my fault. I dragged him on all those adventures."_

The Dark Lord ruffled his messy hair. _"It's not your fault."_

The Minister of Magic took to the podium to introduce himself. Harry continued to look around the enormous room in search of more familiar faces. He was very relieved to see a lot of them. He smiled brightly without control forcing the Dark Lord to experience is utter joy along with him. Both men were smiling like fools while the minister gave his speech. Harry wiped away tears of happiness, so thankful his master had spared so many of his friends' lives.

And then he saw him, the one person in the world he thought he'd never see again. He locked eyes with Sirius Black, his godfather, his beloved Sirius as he entered the room on cue. Harry hugged Lord Voldemort for the wonderful gift as the wraith beckoned the man forward to sit at the table with them. _"Thank you, master. Oh, thank you,"_ Harry cried, clutching the man's tuxedo. The crowd was eating it up. Everyone was in tears when Harry threw himself into Black's arms and wept openly.

Again, Draco's lips were a thin line as he was asked to move to the next seat so that Sirius could sit down beside Harry. He ate his meal in silence while Sirius and Harry chatted about the time they spent in captivity apart.

"What's this?" Sirius asked Harry, touching the thin band poking out of his tuxedo collar around his neck.

"It's my magic inhibitor, I'm not allowed to use magic."

Sirius frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," he said, patting his shoulder.

"It's not too bad, I have Draco to use it for me." He reached over him, patting Draco's hand and looking longingly into his eyes. "Miss you," he mouthed to him before tossing him a wink.

Draco blushed beet-red and blew him a stealthy air-kiss in return. He sat back in his seat feeling refreshed and wishing this ceremony would end so he could spend more time with Harry.

* * *

"Never in a million years could I imagine myself in this house as a visitor." Hermione eyed the humongous snake that entered the room and began coiling around Harry. The young man leaned down and petted her like a cat while he stared at his former classmate.

"I know! It's so strange. All of this has been a whirlwind of strangeness. You can put her down, if you want. She can play with Nagini," he said, indicating to the small child in Hermione's arms.

The child desperately reached out to touch the snake. "You sure?" Hermione asked with trepidation.

Harry gave her a nod and said something in Parseltongue to Nagini. "Absolutely, she's actually quite lovely when you get to know her. Very articulate." Now able to speak freely, Harry had so many questions for the young woman. "So, tell me how you ended up with Krum, I always imagined it would be with Ron for some reason."

"Oh, no, that's isn't allowed," she said. "Krum claimed me. I was given to him to free up space in the camp."

"Claimed you? Oh gods, that's terrible, 'mione." Harry looked upset, feeling that this was somehow his fault.

"It's not bad, honestly," she informed him. She set her daughter Viktoria down on the floor. "He's very good to me and it certainly beats the alternative."

"I suppose you're right. You always are."

"So how are you getting on here? You-Know-Who seemed kind to you. I wouldn't have expected that. I figured…you know, you being Harry Potter and all, he wanted to kill you so badly. I assumed he'd do it eventually."

"No, he wont kill me, I'm his possession," he told her straightforwardly. "I'm not positive as to why, but it has something to do with the scar."

"And Draco Malfoy, how is he? You two hated each other at school."

Harry leaned in closely to her, somewhat embarrassed if anyone else heard him tell her about he and Draco's budding relationship. "We're sort of dating," he whispered. "We've gotten very close over the last four and a half years."

"Wow, I see," Hermione said, blushing. "I didn't know you were gay, Harry."

"Bisexual, actually. So is he."

"Is the Dark Lord alright with it?"

"I think he suspects something, but he hasn't said anything about it. We're trying to keep it under wraps for now. You know, testing things out."

"And what about, you know, the Dark Lord. Does he…have someone?"

"Funny you should ask!" Harry chirped. "He went out on his first date last Friday. He'd never been on one before that didn't involve him scamming some rich bird out of their possessions." They watched Viktoria pet and play with Nagini. "He's really changed. He has emotions and everything now."

"It's you," Hermione said, smiling. "You're still the wizarding world's hero, Harry. You always will be."

"No, I'm not; he is," he said, smiling back at her. "He's really very good to me."

"Oh, Harry," she said, patting his arm. "Trust me, you have that effect on people. I live out there in society, you have and always will be our hero. Please believe me."

"Fine," Harry said, blushing. "I believe you."

* * *

Harry sat down next to Draco on the sofa and handed him a large bowl of popcorn. Lord Voldemort rested back in his armchair and switched on the television. Delores Umbridge adjusted the throw around her as she nuzzled into the armchair beside Voldemort. The movie began and Voldemort switched the lights off with a flick of his hand.

"Pass me some popcorn, Harry," Delores said. Harry pulled his wand free from his dressing gown and levitated it over to her.

As the movie played, Draco and Harry were petting and kissing, eventually moving down along the sofa to properly snog. Draco was lying on top of Harry, kissing him into the cushions. Harry had his arms around his neck. Umbridge nudged the Dark Lord. "They're already at it again, movie hasn't been on 30 minutes."

"Oh, let them have their fun," he replied, waving it off. "Besides, it's his birthday." Waves of happiness assaulted the Dark Lord. Harry was very happy when he was with Draco, it radiated off of him like tangible joy.

The woman was concerned at how lenient the man was with his boy. Far more lenient than she would have been. "And you're really letting them move out? Do you think that's wise? What if he rebels and switches sides?"

"He'll be with Draco at all times and I'm taking his magic away away from him again, for a time. He's not allowed to leave the manor once they move in unless he's heavily escorted and only authorised people are allowed to visit him. I think that's a pretty good trade-off," Voldemort said. "This will show the wizarding world how much I've changed and Harry has more than proved himself to be very loyal to me."

"That is true," she said.

* * *

"Oh." Harry retied his bow-tie. He just could not get it right. "Draco," he called out. He was fretting too badly to tie a decent bow, his agoraphobia was causing him a great deal of anxiety. He did not want to let the Dark Lord down by fidgeting around during the wedding ceremony, he would be so disappointed in him. "Draco!"

"What?" Draco asked him, peeking into the enormous walk-in cupboard. He crossed through it and swatted Harry's hands away to tie his tie for him. Clad only in a towel wrapped around his hips, Harry instantly softened. Draco always had that effect on him. "There," Draco said, taking a step back to look his boyfriend over. "You look gorgeous, Harry, you are so handsome."

Harry looked him up and down. "And so are you. Good lord." He embraced him and kissed his neck.

Draco had been doing his hair for over an hour and lost track of time. He looked at his watch, sighing, wishing they could continue to kiss. "Enough of that, scar-head, we're going to be late," he whispered, shivering in his arms. "You're the best man for Mordred's sake, we cannot be late."

"Fine, fine," Harry said. He helped Draco get dressed and they raced out the door to enter their awaiting carriage.

* * *

The moment they arrived they entered Riddle House they were both ushered over to the ballroom door. Bellatrix threaded her arm in Harry's. "You look beautiful," he told her, giving her a smile. She was wearing a gaudy pink bridesmaid dress with a large bubblegum pink bow in her hair. Despite that she did look very lovely.

"Thank you, dear," she said, smiling back at him. "So do you. You look fantastic. And you're going to do fine." He could feel him shaking but she was very good at making him feel at ease. She was chosen to be the maid of honour for just this instance.

"Okay, I believe you-Ohmygods, the rings! What did I do with…" Bellatrix showed him the rings, dropping them into his breast pocket. "Sorry, Bella, I don't want to ruin this day for him."

"You won't. Relax."

Harry looked back at Draco, who was arm-in-arm with former Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold. They were standing behind his parents, who were also a part of the wedding procession. The organ began to play the wedding march. Harry took a massive breath and let Bellatrix lead him down the isle. Lord Voldemort was standing at the pulpit, looking the happiest Harry had ever seen him. Both of them glittered with pure content. He stood beside him and the Dark Lord kissed his cheek as he hugged him, so proud of his boy.

* * *

The outdoor reception was well in progress. Harry and Draco danced for hours together, and with just about every other female attending the party. Harry was currently dancing with Narcissa, and Draco was beside him cutting a mean rug with Cho Chang. Suddenly, without warning, everything went black. A thick smokescreen flooded the area. Death Eaters were shouting, clamouring to remove it. Lord Voldemort stood up from his place of honour, incensed. He moved through the crowd of panicked guests, knowing very well what was happening. He touched his forehead as he made his way to the dance floor.

Harry felt hands on him; clamped over his nose and mouth, wrapped around his body. He could hear Lord Voldemort in his head but the sickly sweet scent he was inhaling was scrambling his brains, darkening his senses. He was lifted up and carried off without resistance.

As the smoke cleared Draco searched around for Harry. Harry was defenceless, having no ability to use magic. He couldn't find him anywhere, he was gone.

Lord Voldemort stood blankly. He looked around the reception for Sirius Black. He was gone, too.

* * *

Ron Weasley fumbled around with his wand, feeling a lot less happy about the kidnapping than he thought he'd feel. Harry was bound to a chair against his will while members of the Order interrogated him. They were not going to release him, either, after the interrogation, figuring he'd run right back to the Dark Lord like the good little brainwashed lap dog that he now was. He was going to be a prisoner in this manor, in Black's home for the rest of his life. He would eventually accept it, as he had with Voldemort.

Harry was drunk with Veritaserum. He was fighting to not answer their questions, clenching his teeth with all of his might. Mad-eye Moody put him under the Imperious Curse. It was so hard to watch.

Sirius petted his hair and sent the other members off. Harry had told them everything he knew, they were just torturing him at this point. He and Ron carried him to his room.

"Hey," Ron said, finding Harry staring at him while Sirius removed his tuxedo. "It's been a long time, eh, Harry?"

"Yeah, long time," Harry replied. "How's your mum? How's Ginny?"

"They're good," he said, feeling terrible about being in this situation. Harry didn't act like he was brainwashed as they had assured him he was. He was acting like Harry, just Harry.

"Alright, Harry, in the bed," Sirius told him. There were no windows in the room. He wasn't allowed to undress himself or go to bed when he wanted to. It was like being 15 years old all over again. It broke him, he was so happy and everything was taken away from him again. He'd probably never see Draco again. It broke his heart. His life was a shambles, he was a bloody prisoner again.

Ron saw the tears slide down his cheeks as he climbed into bed and curled up into himself. Black was standing over the bed, holding a potion. "I need you to swallow this for me." Harry took it, unwilling to fight back. He'd live life being drugged up again, it was the only way he could stomach this nightmare.

Sirius ushered Ron out of the room and magically locked Harry inside.

* * *

There were wanted and missing person posters wallpapering Diagon Alley. Ron watched Draco putting up the missing person posters, looking utterly dour. Harry had told him about Draco and his relationship and how they planned to get married and adopt a couple of children. He felt just terrible about it, wishing he could reach out and tell the former Slytherin that his boyfriend was okay.

He left, heading back to the house he had been hiding in for over seven years. It was agonising, living life as a prisoner himself, so fearful of Lord Voldemort's wrath. But things had changed. Mudbloods were all over the place again. They had rights just like pure bloods. He didn't know this up until that point. Harry had told him about this, none of the Order had told him about the progress being made in their wizarding world. It made him wonder who the bad guys were anymore.

* * *

Harry was held, forced against his will to believe his new master's word. He hated life, decidedly giving up on living as there seemed to be nothing to live for anymore. Ron wanted to set him free, Harry was obviously used to life without Dumbledore. "Let him go," he heard himself saying, unaware himself of life outside of Grimmauld Place.

"He'll come to remember," Sirius said.

"He does remember," Ron told him. "He told me he lived with Malfoy alone. He told me stuff you never told me."

"Look, Ron, it was for your own good." Sirius looked away, conflicted. He wasn't entirely certain what they were doing was the right thing anymore. Life had gotten extremely better over the last five years, mostly due to changes in the government. He wasn't completely sure what their fight was about anymore as Muggle-borns had nearly as many rights as pure bloods again.

"Really? Was it?" Ron threw an ashtray across the room. He had been lied to as he was always lied to. "I didn't even know Hermione was alive. Did you know, Sirius?"

"Ron, please, we had our reasons."

"Did you know?!"

"Yes, Ron. I'm sorry. We figured it best to keep that from you in case you ran off to try and rescue her." Sirius dropped his head, ashamed.

"That's not the reason you kept it from me and you know it. You kept it from me so I'd still fight for you." Ron shoved the Order member aside who was trying to restrain him. He marched away, furious, feeling very betrayed.

* * *

"Just kill me," Harry begged, finding himself hating life without freedom, no matter who tried to cheer him up. He cried nonstop, there was nothing he could do to forget how much he missed Draco. The Order had even tried removing the memories but they stuck deep. Harry was completely unwilling to let Draco go. "I can't do this again, I can't."

"You're just torturing him," Ron shouted, watching Remus and Sirius do their damnedest to convince Harry he'd been brainwashed. That always stopped Sirius. He would not condone torture of any kind on Harry.

Ron took the man by the arms. "We need to let him go."

"But he'll go back to him," Sirius cried, deeply in pain. "I want him to be safe."

"He will be safe," Ron assured him. "He's not brainwashed, he changed the Dark Lord. I've seen the evidence. Muggle-borns are being accepted again. Holding him hostage is only going to damage the progress we've made. You have to see that."

"You're right. I know you're right. I've seen it progressing for a while now." Black was unsure of what to do but Ron's words were true.

"Let him go," Ron said, knowing they were as bad as the man who initially kidnapped the boy but learnt over time that you cannot hold something so precious hostage, you had to set him free. "Please, Sirius, set him free."

"I just can't, I'm so sorry."

* * *

Ron decidedly willed himself to free Harry. He had been a prisoner for nearly six months. He was drugged to the point of unconsciousness in order to keep him docile. No matter what Harry said he knew the young man was madly in love with Draco Malfoy. No amount of manipulation would change that.

He was a partner in keeping the man confused. He did not want to be a part of this anymore. He wanted to set Harry free.

Ron found Draco again doing the same thing he did every day anymore; putting missing person posters up and asking bystanders if they've seen Harry. Ron felt himself crumble. No one had even gone this far the first time Harry was kidnapped. Draco obviously cared very deeply for him. Under Harry's invisibility cloak, Ron confronted him, jabbing his wand in the other man's side. "Do you really care about him?" he asked him, while forcing him into an alleyway. "Tell me the truth, Malfoy."

Draco allowed himself to be moved. There was something in the other person's voice that spoke to him. This person was desperate. "Yes, very much. If you know where he is please tell me."

"He loves you, Malfoy. Tell me you treat him with nothing but respect, that he's equal to you. Tell me," Ron said, needing to hear the truth from someone other than the Order of the Phoenix.

"I do love him, very much. I treat him with the utmost respect. I love him, Weasley," he said, remembering how close Ron and Harry were during their time in school. "Please let me see him. I'm dying inside."

"Fine, move," Ron said, prodding the other man with his wand.

* * *

Harry clutched onto Draco, running his fingers through his hair as he wept with happiness. "I never thought I'd see you again. Oh gods, is this a dream?"

"Shh, it's alright, I'm here now, honey. It's going to be alright," Draco cried, holding Harry in his embrace. "Let me take him home, Weasley," Draco begged, looking around the room for the invisible man. "Please let me take him home."

"If I let him go they'll crucify me," Ron confessed.

"Then come with us. Hermione comes over to visit all the time. You can stay with us. Life is better now, life is good."

"She does?"

"She's left Krum. I babysit for her all the time."

"She left him?" Ron was breathless. Everything he knew was a lie. "How long ago?"

"Shortly after Harry was kidnapped. She started her own business in Knockturn Alley. She's a shrewd business woman. She frightens me at times." Draco curled around Harry like a shield. It was a certainty his lover had been drugged. He was riding in and out of consciousness. Draco's heart swelled with pity for him. "Harry, wake up, honey. Come on, try and concentrate."

"They give him potions to keep him from communicating with You-Know-Who," Ron told him, pointing at his temple. He looked into the hallway, down either side. "If we're going to do this we need to do it now."

"What?" Draco asked, unsure if he was really saying he could take Harry home. "We can leave?"

"I'm going with you. Both of you under here." He held the cloak up and beckoned them over. "There's a few people in the house at the moment, we need to be absolutely silent."

"Harry, not a peep," Draco told him as he helped him off the bed. They clamoured under the cloak next to Ron and made their way through the house. Ron and Draco worked together to hold Harry up. They escaped and moved down Grimmauld Place until it was safe enough to Apparate. Ron handed Draco his wand back. "Thank you, Weasley…Ron."

"I'd do anything for Harry," Ron said, smiling. "I need you to know that. Anything."

"I do know that," Draco said, taking Harry's arm to side-along Apparate. "I'll see you at home."

Sirius heard everything they said but didn't stop them. Ron was right; Harry had to be freed.

* * *

United at last, Harry and Sirius held hands as Lord Voldemort signed the final treaty, effectively giving Muggle-borns the same rights as pure bloods. Harry was so pleased with his master, hugging and kissing him as if he were his father, so completely awed with the man for signing the treaty. "You are such an amazing man, a perfect leader. I worship you," he said, hugging his master with pure love and admiration. "Thank you, Lord Voldemort, you are truly amazing."

"And I'm so proud of you, Harry. You fill my head with such happiness and you've proved to me that blood-status doesn't really matter. We need to take care of all wizards and witches, because we are all we have." the Dark Lord said, meaning every word of it.

Sirius and Ron stood front and centre. They were awarded metals for their change of heart to bring the two sides together as one. They were heroes in the eyes of the wizarding world, they were bloody heroes.

* * *

Harry saw Hermione and Ron kiss and looked away, blushing. "I knew it," he said, seeing them together with as much passion as he and Draco had together. "I couldn't have predicted this any other way."

* * *

"And good riddance," Harry said, teasing his childhood friend while they moved him out of their manor to move into Hermione's flat. He had Viktoria in his arms, her sworn protector as they levitated bedroom furniture into a rented lorry. The six-year-old had her arms wrapped around her Godfather's neck and pressed her cheek to his cheek. "How can you make dinner there tonight? You'll be exhausted from moving in. It's going to be a mess. I insist that you two come over for dinner tonight. Voldemort and Delores are coming, too. C'mon, Ron. I'm going to hold Vicky here hostage."

"Fine, fine, we'll be here," Ron said, caving in.

Young Death Eaters huddled around The-Boy-Who-Lived to protect him as they stepped into the street. "I should probably stay near the house," Harry commented, feeling his agoraphobia crawling over his skin.

Draco gave him a nod. "Yeah, that's fine, stay inside. We've got this."

After several trips from the house to the street, Ron was all packed up and left to move everything away. Draco dropped down on the sofa beside Harry and put his arm around his husband. They watched Viktoria playing on the floor. Having experienced a life in solitude and depression they had not only survived, they had prospered. The wizarding world was not perfect, but it was far better a place than it had ever been and that was something.

"Alone at last," Draco said. "Well, sort of."

"It's time for someone's lunch. Minky, can you please get Viktoria something to eat so me and Draco can fool around?"

"Ooh," Draco said, grinning.

A little house-elf appeared beside the girl and led her off into the kitchen.

Harry fell back against the sofa cushions, letting Draco climb on top of him to press their lips together. This was the life, he had everything he wanted, not knowing he wanted any of it until now.


End file.
